


heat of her breath in my mouth, i'm alive

by Xairathan



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 21:26:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21204338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xairathan/pseuds/Xairathan
Summary: Nobunaga, Okita, and spring storms.





	heat of her breath in my mouth, i'm alive

**Author's Note:**

> i keep referencing _something_ heavier and heavier as I write more oknb and eventually it's going to come to a point where I write something based entirely off that but until that time comes please enjoy my increasingly less concealed references

The smell of the woods hangs heavy around Nobunaga, clinging even to her bare skin. Okita shivers, fingers playing shakily over Nobunaga’s back, following the slope of her shoulder blades. Nobunaga’s mouth dances over Okita’s throat, catching her pulse with flighty nips and tempering the rising red marks with gentle passes of her tongue.

A shift of Okita’s hips lifts her back off the futon, melding her seamlessly into Nobunaga for several seconds. Turning her head, she buries her face in the dark curtain of Nobunaga’s hair, and lets herself be lost in it. With her vision blotted out, her other senses paint a portrait of where she’s not. She can imagine she’s in some unmapped forest, new blooms and seedling grass brushing against her as she runs. She can believe, until Nobunaga shifts and the room comes back into brilliant focus, that she’s not as sick as to have stayed in Chaldea for all these past weeks.

Nobunaga’s fingers find Okita’s collarbone with the delicate precision of a bird alighting on a branch. They follow it up to the bend of her neck, move past and tickle the ends of Okita’s hair. Okita doesn’t realize Nobunaga’s going for her ribbon until she feels its weight drop away, her hair falling with it. A mild sigh of protest gets rapid-fire kisses peppering her jawline. Nobunaga doesn’t apologize for her rashness in these moments, but that doesn’t mean she’s entirely thoughtless.

“Nobu.” Okita whispers against Nobunaga’s ear, a low and wispy breath.

“I know, I know.” Nobunaga pauses to study Okita’s face. It’s hardly a second, barely a couple of blinks. To Okita, it feels like an eternity. Nobunaga has been gone so often lately that even this brief stillness borders on unbearable. She needs to feel Nobunaga moving over her. She needs the unearthly heat of Nobunaga’s body to chase away her doubts, as inescapable as her shadow.

Nobunaga’s expression shifts slightly. It’s not even a change in her face, but of her eyes. They’ve seen something, but do not betray what that might be. Okita doesn’t have time to consider it. Nobunaga rocks back on her knees, settling at the opposite end of the futon. She dips her head, lips grazing the twin knots of bone that mark where Okita’s collarbones meet, and continues onward. Okita settles hard against the futon, grabbing thoughtlessly for whatever provides enough resistance to be held. The heaviness of Nobunaga’s body presses her down into the sheets. She winds her hands into them, gasping softly, struggling to lift her head enough to keep Nobunaga within her line of sight. To her blurred vision, the bright fluorescent lights might be the midday sun. Nobunaga is still close enough that the earthy smell coming off of her might have risen from the forest floor, drawn out by freshly fallen rain. Chaldea’s mellow air chills the paths Nobunaga’s sucked into her throat, reminiscent of a spring breeze. Her grip is solid enough to hold a sword still. If only Okita were strong enough to stand. That’s what she lacks; her legs are far too unsteady, and Nobunaga is only going to make that worse. If only she could lift her sword and fight.

Nobunaga reaches Okita’s breasts, tongue laving over a nipple. Okita twists her head to the side, cheek digging into the pillow. Waiting for Nobunaga has made her sensitive. She quakes at every new touch, as if she’s still as inexperienced as when Nobunaga had taken her into bed many months ago. (That was back when Okita was still called out for missions). Okita dares to glance down, and sees Nobunaga grinning up at her with just a hint of teeth. She feels the bite a second later. Her body jerks, a line of heat racing down her stomach and settling between her legs. Nobunaga laughs, hums, watches Okita squirm. Even after so long apart, she still loves to tease.

Another movement. Nobunaga repeats herself with Okita’s other breast, tongue and teeth and kisses. Her hands caress the insides of Okita’s thighs. Rough callouses brush the ghosts of bruises long since faded. Okita trembles as if they’re still there, freshly bitten, blush-red and purple to go with the pink of her hakama. Imploringly, she reaches for Nobunaga’s head. The slightest touch to Nobunaga’s forehead is her plea. Nobunaga nods her acknowledgement. She lays one final kiss along Okita’s breastbone, moving downward, following the winding criss-cross of pale distortions across her stomach. Okita has to shut her eyes. She doesn’t want to know if Nobunaga notices the restlessness frothing beneath her skin. Maybe, if there’s no way for her gaze to betray herself, Nobunaga will remain oblivious.

Nobunaga reaches the join of Okita’s legs. Okita expects her to linger here, as she usually does. She’s used to Nobunaga flitting mercurially between biting and sucking, not content to move on until she’s tinted Okita’s skin with the dark hues of thunderheads cresting high hills, moving to settle over the valleys like Nobunaga situates herself between Okita’s thighs.

But Nobunaga does none of this; Okita feels Nobunaga’s mouth pull away, and for a moment, there’s nothing. The only thing anchoring her to this reality is the sensation of Nobunaga’s hands firm on her knees. The space between them has taken on a certain thickness, one Okita remembers from her time spent in Kyoto, the way the air had felt in those hours before the riverbanks ran over with rainfall.

Then Nobunaga’s tongue rolls in a line over her clit and down her folds, and something like lightning blazes through Okita’s mind. Nobunaga expects the sudden twitch of Okita’s legs away from her and holds them steady, leaving Okita’s hips with nowhere to go but up against her waiting mouth. Nobunaga laughs; the tremor of her voice slides along Okita’s spine, and she shudders uncontrollably. She’s waited for Nobunaga for so long, and now she’s back. This isn’t just another dream from which Okita will wake lonely and wanting; Nobunaga is here.

It’s as if Nobunaga knows every thought about herself that’s crossed Okita’s mind. It doesn’t take long until she’s worked Okita up to the heights of quivering ecstacy, keeping her there with the whisper of her warm breath promising longer, feather-light swipes of her tongue. Okita flushes pink from head to toe, muscles visibly taut. Nobunaga draws everything from her, breathless gasps and tension, a silver sheen of sweat and an iron grip tangled in the sheets. All thought, any doubt, is drowned in the flood of sensations Nobunaga fills her with. Nobunaga’s lips flutter over her skin, and Okita hears herself gasp, keening as Nobunaga’s fire licks away at her core, threatening to consume her entirely.

“Nobu. Nobu, please.” The words emerge from Okita distorted and hardly audible. They could just as easily be carried off and lost in the mingled cadence of Okita’s panting and Nobunaga’s eager sighs, a rhythm as familiar to Okita as the pattering of rain on Kyoto’s rooftops. That’s what she’s very nearly reminded of, the city where she’d spent the few short months she reflects upon as her prime. Nobunaga’s voice cuts through all that, bringing Okita abruptly back to reality.

“I will,” Nobunaga reassures her. “Just look at me. I want you to be watching.”

Timidly, Okita works an eye open. She’s met with Nobunaga beaming up at her, damp lips gleaming under the lights, eyes sparkling even brighter. As soon as she’s certain that Okita’s gaze is upon her, she’s dipping back down, only the top of her head visible. Okita sees it bob forward, feels a languid yet fierce heat surrounding her clit; Nobunaga’s nails dig faint crescents into her legs, and Okita angles her hips forward, there, _ there _ _ — _

Okita throws her head back; her vision goes white, and she shakes as the lightning dancing beneath her eyelids ripples along the rest of her body. She’s only faintly aware of the rest of the world around her. Nobunaga holds her, drinking in everything from Okita’s taste to the crescendo of Okita’s moans like the roar of following thunder. She settles Okita against the bed, pulling the covers around them, and she waits.

Okita, her mind still off at some distant high, curls instinctively against Nobunaga. Again, the scent of earth suffuses her nostrils. She tilts her chin, pressing her lips to Nobunaga’s cheek in silent thanks. Nobunaga may not have known what’s plagued Okita during those weeks she’d been gone, but somehow she’s brought back exactly what Okita needs. Nobunaga’s fingers move through her damp hair, stroking patiently as the clarity returns to Okita’s eyes, as bright as the cloudless skies after the storms.

“Ah, Nobu?” Okita murmurs. Her hands hover uncertainly over Nobunaga’s body. “Should I also…?”

“Wait.” Nobunaga shifts onto her side, staring carefully into Okita’s eyes. “Something’s been bothering you this whole time.” She reaches out, rests her palm against Okita’s cheek, stopping her from looking away before Okita’s even registered the movement of her own head. “Tell me?”

“It’s stupid,” Okita says immediately.

“Nothing’s stupid.”

“I just—” Okita swallows back the excuses that rise so naturally to her lips. Nobunaga sees through all of those; Okita knows there’s no harm in telling her the truth, but she’s just so used to concealing it. “You’re always gone now,” she mumbles. “And I never get called to go on missions anymore.”

“Oh.” Nobunaga’s arms sweep Okita up and press their bodies together. Okita nuzzles into the crook of her neck, breathing heavily, and hears Nobunaga whisper, “Oh, Okita.”

“I’m-”

“No.” Nobunaga pecks Okita’s lips, cutting her short. “No apologizing, not for things you can’t help.” Nobunaga tilts her head forward, resting her forehead against Okita’s. Though all Okita can see of her is her eyes, her smile shines through them, as clear and vibrant as her fire. “I know I’ve been gone a while, but I’m back now, see?”

“What if you have to go again?”

“I’ll say I need a break! It’s not like we don’t have plenty of Archers around here.” Nobunaga leans in, her breath whirling hot over Okita’s lips and scattering her thoughts. “Don’t worry about it, Okita. If I really have to go, I’ll come back as soon as I can, I promise. But right now, I’m here!”

“I know,” Okita says. The pressure against her skin, chasing away those wayward thoughts of days spent alone lying on a futon, is proof enough of that. Nobunaga nods, her hands rubbing soothing circles against Okita’s back, an invitation to sleep. But it’s more than that; there’s the unspoken promise that Nobunaga will be here when Okita wakes up, that she’s not going anywhere, that there’s time for them to simply breathe and take each other in. That’s what Nobunaga reminds her, with measured strokes of her knuckles along Okita’s spine. They’re Heroic Spirits, as immutable as the constant blizzards outside Chaldea; they have plenty of time.

Okita tucks her head against Nobunaga’s shoulder, her sigh blowing Nobunaga’s hair in every direction. With Nobunaga flush against her like this, her presence chases away every solitary memory that might haunt Okita’s mind. The only way she’s fallen asleep like this is with Nobunaga at her side; the only place she’s felt like this is in Nobunaga’s arms. Their shared warmth is proof that Okita isn’t alone anymore. Perhaps Nobunaga’s realized this, too— her arms settle tight around Okita’s shoulders, unrelenting even as Nobunaga drifts off to her own separate slumber. Even then, her heat pulses strong against Okita, accompanying her beyond the realm of sleep to that faraway dream within a dream.

**Author's Note:**

> if you get what I'm referencing I'll give you a <strike>cookie</strike> oknb/godking/jltr short I guess. but if I already told you what it is that doesn't count.


End file.
